


Possibly Unwanted Protagonist (PUP)

by Yesserson



Category: Sword Art Online
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesserson/pseuds/Yesserson
Summary: Akihiko Kayaba's vision and ambition made Sword Art Online the first game of its kind. Unfortunate, since the world wasn't clamoring for a fully-immersive death simulator. But despite being an indisputable genius, Kayaba is still a human writing code. The beta lasted only a month, and the world of Alfheim is vast and sprawling. There's no way the code itself is bug-free. There must be some way to game the system, no matter how small or obscure. Kazuto Kirigaya is counting on it.





	1. Akihiko Kayaba

A visionary, innovator, and pioneer. One of the developers of NerveGear technology, and the mind behind Sword Art Online. He was an intellectual titan, crack programmer, and a nerd of the highest caliber. He ticked all the boxes. The media adored him. Everyone wanted to talk to Kayaba: talk show hosts, popular science stars, journalists. He kept his footprint manageable, sidestepping the moral quandaries and politics politely, focusing his insights on the future he saw for virtual reality and gaming, smiling when his hosts cracked jokes, as was expected. Argus was more than happy to see more investors and partnerships flowing in when preorders for Sword Art Online's limited release sold out within seconds. They had the pipeline for upscaling after the limited release all figured out, truly  _sexy_ figures projected for the next few quarters, consumers clamoring to experience the world of Alfheim.

Unfortunate for Argus that all eyes were primed on them on November 6, 2022. Unfortunate for the 10,000 players that god-king Akihiko Kayaba was a complete sociopath. His ultimatum was clear: play the game by his rules and on his terms, live and breathe and die in Alfheim, and perhaps the ten thousand would wake up from their nightmare. Subject-matter experts fought to decide a course of action. How many safeguards did he nestle into his massive code base against tampering? How many lives was he willing to sacrifice? What was this man thinking when he consigned so many to death?

No one could say. But he was fallible. He surely could not have written perfect code. Even with years of development on the hardware, the engine, the game, even with a crack team of the best programmers and engineers on the market, there will be bugs and loopholes sleeping somewhere in Alfheim. Then, the question on everyone's lips: How do we outsmart Akihiko Kayaba?


	2. Asuna Yuuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how this one goes.

The kobold snarled, hackles raised, veins bulging as it swung the crude blade of its iron ax down in a diagonal slash: the first strike of its three-hit combo. Next, an upward swing, opposite the motion of the first. Third, a sidelong swipe. These monsters appeared in groups, but no more than three tended to attack at any one point; their swings were wide, and their wide frames crowded each other out each other with their wild motions. Beyond blustering snarling and occasional dodges, they only used this one attack pattern. They followed movement without regard for environment once their primitive AI decided on a target, so it was simple enough to lead them to the natural choke point of the narrow cave entrance and pick them off one by one.

Asuna Yuuki fought this kobold in a cave clearing amidst a stone floor littered with axes and leather.

Spittle flew as the kobold howled, ax swishing through air in the upward swing, taking a step backward, overcompensating in the follow-through, exposing its neck and armpits and all the partings of its leather armor. She seized the opportunity now, movements a blur. By the time she put her guard back up, she knew her strikes hit true. Two threads of light blossomed into beams, one through the armpit, one through the neck, up into the base of the jaw, through the head. The final sliver of red drained away from its life bar. Bloodshot eyes widened and a final, croaking groan escaped from the wolf-headed warrior. It crumpled to its feet as it shattered apart into shards of light.

Ten for ten this time. She relaxed her white-knuckle grip on the rapier slightly, wincing as her joints and muscle chided her for the exertion. She opened her menu and checked her status. The name "ASUNA" sat above a full green health bar and an inventory list. Strange. How could she be sore when her health was at full? It was just a game. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

_Just a game._

Something to pass the time, a diversion from stress, an escape from real life. It was a fantasy world in a dream world that she could share with other people. 

That was how Koichiro justified his purchase when Mother asked after seeing him open the package. It was something unique, something that was going to change the future of media. There were AR games before. There were VR games, too, but none with the same scope or ambition as Sword Art Online. This was an inflection point, and he wanted to be there. Mother gave her cautious approval to Koichiro's first game purchase. His shoulders were broad enough to carry the family legacy. He had been raised with rigor befitting Recto Electronics' heir apparent and could comport himself with discipline and dignity as suited his station. So went the story, but Asuna could see the gleam of giddy enthusiasm in his eyes whenever he talked about it.

What about it so captured the imagination? Asuna never got a chance to ask him before his flight to New York, November 6, 2022, but at this point, she didn't need an answer. Every moment spent thinking about the draw of the game was another stab of regret, another reminder that an ounce of curiosity had left her body comatose. Her prison was beautiful: the sweeping landscapes were breathtaking, the cities held age, culture, and mystery, and the illusion was meticulous, down to how dew clung to grass after the autumn rains. It filled her throat and head and heart with a sticky, burning anger that she couldn't scream away.

It had changed over these last few hours into a cloying, numbing dead thing that weighed on her mind. "December 2" hung in the corner of her peripheral vision.

_Days_ , she reminded herself. She had set out on this suicide mission sometime in late November.

She looked down, eyes fluttering, momentarily seeing double as she took stock of herself. So many encounters dulled her rapier. The edge had long since lost its sheen, and the scuffs and dents on the blade and guard played out a history of timely parries and near-death blocks. She would need to discard it at some point, or else it would snap mid-combat, as had the first two. Her arm hand long since numbed, wrist and fingers only hurting when she moved them beyond just handling the blade. It had become an extension of herself, almost. It was appropriate. She smelled like iron. Tasted iron in her mouth.

This was the best way she could go. Doing her best, striving against the impossible. This was the best apology she could make for missing the entrance exams. This was fine. She was okay with this. She blinked when she caught herself hunching and righted herself, adjusting her cloak with her free hand, shaking the mist out of her mind. She was okay. She just needed to keep going.

"That was really flashy. You could be more efficient though."

The voice was male. Human. She raised her arm, drew her rapier back, leaning her weight forward on one leg, ready to lunge at him the moment he moved.

"Whoa! Not an enemy."

He was scarcely taller than she was, black hair and dark eyes, his neutral face reading mild surprise. He wore the starting gear that she had seen so much of in the town, but mud and dirt covered the left side of his body from shoulder to ankle. His sword was still sheathed his back and his soil-crusted hands were raised in a gesture of harmlessness. She stared at him, uncomprehendingly. A clod of dirt fell off his blue shirt sleeve. She sheathed her rapier and he sighed, putting his hands down.

"...Efficient?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You could have dropped that kobold with a basic attack. It was near dead after your second Linear, and it would have been faster. Your reflexes are crazy, but it saves you some time in case you miss or put up a block or something." He paused. "You can't use sword skills all the time if you want to stay at peak performance. It takes up too much concentration. If you're not careful, some nobody monster will get the drop on you. We're an hour out from the exit, so you really can't afford an injury."

"An hour...? It doesn't matter. I'm not going back to town."

She could see his eyes roll.

"Aw, come on. No need to play tough. Where else are you going to get recovery items and weapon maintenance?"

"Does it matter if I don't get hit?" A defiant edge entered her voice. She raised her chin up, giving him a haughty smile. She forced the bile down from her throat. She had to hold out for now, then she would rest in the safe room.

"You're serious about this." His voice was quiet.

He finally got it. They stood in silence a while. She lowered her head, narrowed her eyes into a glare and stared at him. For someone who looked like a loner, he was being pretty talkative.

"That's not a nice thing to say."

She blinked. Had she said that aloud?

"Yeah, and you look like shit. Come on, you're going to _die_ out here if you keep on fighting like that." He began to take tentative steps towards her.

Did that matter though? All of them were going to die, at some point, anyways. It wasn't like there was any chance they would reach the end of this dungeon. Her throat burned.

_Ah, I said that out loud again._

She pitched forward, her vision blurring again, her strength seeping out of her limbs, her consciousness fading. She felt a profound sense of resignment, or maybe relief. She was so tired.


End file.
